


Splinters + Shotgun

by impossiblepluto



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: (which i am not a fan of... oops), Cairo Day 2020 (MacGyver 2016), Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, small reference to the 2x03 cold open
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23630863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto
Summary: After being chased through the woods, Mac helps out an injured Jack.Cairo Day One: Family
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 56





	Splinters + Shotgun

The tree trunk next to Mac’s head explodes in a shower of splinters. He yelps as they pepper the side of his face and neck, ducking and covering his head.

Beside him, Jack shoves him behind the cover of the tree, turns on his heel, drawing his gun and returning fire in one smooth motion.

“Guess Bo and Luke realized why we were here,” Jack shouts as another shotgun blast explodes. He dives behind a different tree, returning fire. 

“At least, we got what we came for,” Mac yells back. “Let’s get out of here before Uncle Jesse shows up.”

“Wouldn’t mind sticking around to see if Cousin Daisy shows up in those shorts,” Jack waggles his eyebrow as he pokes his head around the tree. “On my signal, take off for the car, and hope they don’t have the General Lee stashed around here somewhere. We could take them easy in any of my cars, but I don’t trust this rental.”

Jack lays down cover fire as Mac darts off, crashing into the dense underbrush. He’s leaving a trail that they won’t need a hunting dog to follow but he can worry about stealth later. Jack might have been joking, but this town seems more and more like corrupt Hazard County the longer they stay here. He’ll be only too glad to reach the car and head out of the hills. And he’d stack Jack’s driving up against either Duke brother any day, even in a rental car.

Branches snap beneath his feet. He ducks into a crouch as the report of gunfire echoes through the woods. Glancing behind him, he sees Jack spin around, firing back in rapid succession at the men giving chase. Mac hears one of them yelp and knows Jack made contact. 

“Go!” Jack shouts, tearing after him. 

Mac leaps over a downed tree, his feet slipping on the moss-covered ground.

Jack catches his arm as he follows him over the log, steadying him. Reaching out on instinct, almost before Mac even slipped, and keeping him upright. Using the momentum to shove him forward. 

Branches scratch at his face. 

He hears a pained grunt behind him and slows, turning, looking over his shoulder at Jack.

“Keep going, I’m good. Just a cramp,” Jack waves Mac on. 

The sounds of pursuit fade in the distance. The only destructive rustling of foliage is from the pair of agents. Mac’s breathing labored from exertion but steady and deep. Jack’s breath sounds ragged behind him and he keeps shooting a look at his partner.

Trees part, revealing the dirt road where they parked the car, just off the highway. 

“You should probably start running with me again,” Mac teases, diving into the passenger seat. Resting his head against the seat while breathing heavily. He pulls the hem of his t-shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face.

“Heh, yeah,” Jack replies, sucking air hard and fast. He kicks the car into gear and rattles over potholes, kicking up dust. “Probably should.”

Mac frowns, pushing himself forward, looking Jack over. “You alright man? You’re not like having a heart attack on me or something, are you?” Mac tries to keep up the teasing mood but something is wrong.

Jack grimaces. “Nah, man, not today. But if I ever need you to make me an external heart pump I’ll let ya know. You okay?” Jack turns his eyes from the road glancing at Mac. “You got blood on your face.”

Pulling down the sun visor and flipping open the mirror Mac winces. Tiny slivers of tree bark freckled one side of his face. He pulls one out gently. 

“There’s probably some tweezers in the first aid kit,” Jack throws a thumb over his shoulder at the backseat. “Something to clean your hands with too before you start picking at it.”

Mac leans over his seat, half his body hanging in the back, rummaging through the gear. The car bounces over a particularly large pothole. Mac grunts as Jack grabs his belt, keeping him steady. He shimmies back to a seated position, pulling open the kit. 

Using a wipe to clean his hands, then sanitizing the tweezers because this is their kit and Mac can’t quite remember how he last repurposed them, but he has a distinct memory of wanting to get them sterilized before they’re needed again. 

He wraps one arm around his head, pulling the skin of his cheek taunt.

“That’s more stubble than you’ve had on your face in like… ever.”

Mac rolls his eyes. “Some of us aren’t hairy neanderthals.” 

“If you were a mobster back in the twenties you’d be Babyface MacGyver,” Jack chuckles at his joke then brow furrows as he watches Mac pull the splinters from his face, puffing out his cheek and wincing as he digs for a deep one. 

Mac combs through his hair making sure he didn’t get any wood slivers in his scalp, and pulls away the collar of his jacket that took the brunt of the explosion. 

The car leaps off the road with the next bump they hit, and Mac smacks his head on the roof of the car. 

“Take it easy,” he grouses. 

Jack is white-knuckling the steering wheel and yeah, the roads in this county are atrocious, but they’ve had high-speed chases on dirt paths on the side of a cliff so this is nothing. He’s still sweating. And looking a little pale under the stubble.

“I was joking about the heart attack earlier, but you don’t look so good, what’s going on?”

Jack thumps his chest. “Ticker is fine.”

“But something obviously isn’t,” Mac reaches over, hand pressing against Jack’s chest. He can feel Jack’s heart racing. His fingers searching for injury as Jack squirms away from his touch. 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell ya not to mess with the driver while he’s driving?”

“Yeah, you did. But you were bleeding out at the time and didn’t tell me about it, so I wasn't listening.”

“Well, I’m not bleeding out.”

“But you’re bleeding,” Mac holds up a hand, streaked with red. “What the hell, Jack?” His hand goes back to Jack’s right flank, pushing aside his leather jacket and lifting his pockmarked t-shirt. Blood bubbles from dozens of tiny holes scattered against Jack’s back.

“I think John Boy might have gotten in a lucky shot.” 

“Why didn’t you say something?” Mac asks rummaging through the first aid kit for fresh gauze.

“Kind of running for our lives.”

“We’ve been in the car almost twenty minutes with no one chasing us. You could have had me drive!” Mac shoves the gauze pad against his side and Jack groans at the pressure.

In all the years they’ve been partnered, he can probably count one hand the number of times Jack has asked him to drive. He can count on two hands the number of times he’s done the driving, because sometimes Jack hasn’t been awake to do the asking. 

“It’s not that bad.”

“You haven’t even looked at it.”

“If it was bad, it’d feel worse. Think my jacket took the worst of it,” Jack frowns. “I liked this jacket. It’s never gonna be the same.”

“Your hide might never be the same. Pull over.”

“We’re like ten minutes from the safe house. It’ll take us longer to do a Chinese fire drill than just drive there.”

“We’re not going to the safe house. We’re going to see if Matty can move up ex-fil. Or we’re going to find a hospital.”

“Nah, we ain’t.”

“Jack…”

“There’s only a county in between our safe house and those crazy moonshiners. Any gunshot wounds, even shotgun blasts get reported so we can’t go to a hospital.”

“Fine. Then we’ll call Matty.”

“Don’t you dare,” Jack reaches over, closing his hand over Mac’s cellphone. “I am not going to Medical with this.” 

“Jack, you have buckshot in your back,” Mac’s raises his eyebrow, his pitch climbing. “Come on, man--”

“Yeah, well, it ain’t just my back, some of that might be a little lower. And if you think I’m gonna lay around there again with my tuckus hanging out so y’all can hold a debrief and laugh because, ha ha ha, Jack got shot in the ass, you can forget it.” 

“Jack,” Mac sighs.

“No,” Jack glares at him. “Look, I was a good sport. Let you all have your fun. Get your teasing out, about dumb ol' Jack's frostbitten butt. Didn’t complain. Kept my mouth shut even though it hurt, and I’m not talking about just those treatments I had to keep going back in for. I know I tease you all the time, Mac, but I wouldn’t have teased you like that.

Mac feels his ears burn with condemnation. He remembers sitting in triage, a thin white hospital gown and nothing else, a draft wafting around his legs and higher. Still feeling chilled, despite an IV of warm saline bolused into his vein during the ex-fil flight home. He wished they’d turn up the heat. Or give him one of the warmed blankets he knows are cooking in the supply room. 

Feeling horribly exposed when the whole team walked in. His vital signs flashing on the monitor, pale legs dangling over the edge of the exam bed. 

Bozer’s driven him to the ER more than once. He’s been there when Mac’s suffered through the flu or bronchitis, or a broken arm that left him helpless. It’s not the first time he’s seen Mac like this. 

It’s one thing to have Riley traipsing in. She’s seen him blown up, concussed, and ears ringing. He’s not exactly happy about her standing around while he’s sitting, practically naked except for a sheet that's masquerading as a hospital gown, on the table, but she cuddled him through hypothermia once. That kind of situation levels up a friendship.

Matty and Cage’s presence is something else altogether. Matty is his boss. He knows she's read his medical file, but that’s different than seeing the damage in person, in the immediate aftermath, and Cage is new enough to the team that he doesn’t know what to think yet.

The complete and utter relief at the attention turning away from him and onto Jack. The juvenile teasing and unprofessional attitudes of his teammates were embarrassing to watch. It made him feel sick to participate. He often sees the hurt look on Jack’s face as he tries to sleep. The betrayal.

Jack pulls the car into the safe house garage. Carefully, easing himself from the front seat, with a bitten off hiss. 

“Let me clear it, just in case,” he says, drawing his gun and signaling for Mac to stay behind him as he efficiently searches the house. 

A dark stain covers Jack’s right flank. His jacket looks like baby swiss, full of tiny little holes. Mac can’t believe he missed this. 

“Okay, we’re clear,” Jack says, holstering his gun. He snaps on the bathroom light and reaches to take the first aid kit from Mac’s hands. 

“I’m not letting you do this by yourself,” Mac says, shifting his body and keeping the kit out of Jack’s reach. “I won’t say anything, but you’re going to let me help you.” 

“Alright,” Jack nods. “I wasn’t looking forward to trying to dig buckshot out of my back. Kitchen’s probably the best place.” 

Mac snatches up the two lamps from the living room, plugging them in and stretching the cords to reach the table for improved lighting. He pulls down the shower curtain from the bathroom, laying it across the kitchen table and draping clean towels over it. He washes his hands and sterilizes his supplies.

Jack hisses as he lifts his arms over his head shedding his shirt, then shimmies out of his skinny jeans, gasping as the material brushes against tender flesh. He eases himself down, laying on his belly on the makeshift surgery table. Blood wells from pebbly little pockmarks scattered across Jack’s lower back, just above the waistband of his boxer-briefs in a circular blast pattern. 

“I don’t think they penetrated too deep,” Mac frowns, cleaning away the blood. “They’re just under the surface.

Jack’s muscles are tense, rigid. He flinches, hard, when Mac pushes the gauze pad against his back. 

“You should have said something.”

“We would have had a whole bunch of other holes to worry about if Goober and Gomer had caught up with us.”

“I’m your partner. You’re supposed to tell me when you’re hurt.”

Jack nods, the shower curtain crinkling under him. “I know, hoss and I’m sorry. You should try to do better than my poor example.”

Mac breathes out a huff of exasperation. “We’re going to talk about this later.” 

Jack smiles. 

“You ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.”

Mac pinches the skin around the small hole with his free hand, applying steady pressure, forcing the small ball bearing forward. Using the tweezers of his pocket knife he reaches into the wound. Blood continues flowing from the hole, making the tweezers slick, the round metal ball slips in his grip. 

Jack hisses.

Mac curses. He takes a deep breath and adjusts his grip. The prongs close around the sphere, and he tugs it from the wound, he can almost hear a slurp and a pop as it’s released from Jack’s body. He drops it into a plastic cup with a dull thump.

“Where’s my clink?” Jack complains turning to look over his shoulder at Mac.

“Your what?” Mac pauses his search for the next piece of buckshot, meeting Jack’s eyes.

“You know that metal on metal clink of the bullet falling into a basin or cup or something. Like the movies.”

Mac frowns. 

“The docs at Medical always finds me an old school stainless steel basin,” Jack grumbles.

“You want to wait for Medical to get these out?” 

“No.”

“Then you’re stuck with this.”

It is slow going. Mac is meticulously searching for each shard of buckshot, probing each wound bed. Applying steady pressure to keep the wound tracks open. The muscles of Jack’s back flutter and tremble with tension and pain under Mac's hand. 

Mac moves lower. He probes at the first wound on Jack’s ass. 

Jack flinches

“These are deeper. Your skinny jeans didn’t offer as much protection as the leather jacket.”

Jack grunts in reply.

“But, there’s only five.”

“Great.”

“You need a break?”

“Nah, just get it done.” 

There’s a sigh of relief with the dull thunk of the first piece of shrapnel. Jack clenches his teeth, breathing in through his nose and focusing on holding himself still 

The third piece is deeper than the others. 

Jack sucks in a hissing breath, flinching away from Mac’s prodding fingers. 

“I can’t get it,” Mac pulls away, leaning back in frustration. He wipes his blood slick hands on a towel. He clears his throat and takes a few deep breaths. 

The knife clicks open. Pressing lightly against the skin, enough to penetrate a few layers of skin and subcutaneous tissue. 

“There it is,” Mac breathes. Clasping the skin firmly and pulling. Jack can't stifle a yelp. 

He breathes a sigh of relief when Mac announces that he removed the last piece. The tension easing from his back. 

Mac cleans out the wounds and slathers triple antibiotic ointment liberally across Jack’s flank before covering the area with a bandage. 

Jack rolls, sitting up and moves to hop off the table.

“I don’t think you should get up. You might start the bleeding again,” Mac says, putting a hand on Jack’s shoulder and slowing his momentum.

“Hell no, I’m not laying here like this,” Jack gestures broadly and Mac flinches, remembering their earlier discussion. 

“I’ll lay on the couch,” Jack says quietly, kicking himself for his brusque words. “The table’s just too hard on these old bones.”

Mac sticks close as Jack moves into the living room of the small house. While Mac doesn’t think he lost enough blood to cause dizziness, the adrenaline crash and pain relief might make Jack unsteady. 

Jack sits on the couch, looking up at Mac seriously. “Thanks, kid. I couldn’t have pulled those out on my own. And there’s no one else I trust more than you.” Jack rubs a hand across his face. “Look, Mac, I didn’t mean to go off on you like that before. About the frostbutt. I know you were as uncomfortable as I was with everyone bursting in on us like that. And if my hindquarters can take the attention off o’ you, that’s fine. I’m not exactly shy.”

Mac gives a small smile. “I am sorry about it. I shouldn’t have-- and I was--”

“I know.”

“That mission was a mess” Mac shakes his head. “We were arguing the whole time. Everything we did went wrong. Everything I tried failed. I felt like you should have been angry with me. Should have told me off for being distracted and grumpy but you didn’t and I just.... I wanted to provoke you. Wanted an explosion, just get it over with.” 

“We had a whole string of rough ones. Plus searching for your dad. All those old memories and bad dreams that came with it. It was a bad time.”

“I wanted to hurt you before you hurt me.”

“Aw, Mac, I would never hurt you.”

“I know but sometimes…”

“Sometimes you gotta test it? Push me and see what it takes for my temper to flare? Shove me away to make sure I’ll push back a little and stick around?”

Mac’s eyes drop. Of course, Jack recognizes that. Would see through exactly what Mac is doing. Recognize the broken pieces and the way trust doesn't come easily and help heal those fissures without Mac noticing what he's doing. Filling in the gaps left behind by an absent father and offer reassurance that Jack will never abandon him. “Something like that.” 

Jack's hand rests gently on the side of Mac’s neck, thumb stroking his jawline. “I’m not perfect, Mac. I know you think I am, but I got my flaws,” he teases.

Mac looks up and smiles. 

His voice grows serious. “But I will never hurt you. And it doesn’t matter if you try to shove me away, I’m a stubborn old goat. I don’t scare off easy. And I’m harder to get rid of than you think. It’s like a reverse Wookie life debt. You saved my life so now, I’m your problem.”

A chuckle bursts from Mac.

“You’re never gonna be able to push me away, kid. And I’m never gonna leave you. I know when I’ve stumbled on a good thing and you are the best thing. You’re stuck with me, kid.” 


End file.
